Sub Malis Principibus
by Andrea Rimsky
Summary: Young Kaddar Ghazanoi Iliniat loses his innocence. A sort of homage to Tacitus.


_posse etiam sub malis principibus magnos viros esse_  
-Tacitus, Vita Agricolae (1)

"Why is Mother crying, sir?" Kaddar Ghazanoi Iliniat asked his father on the day he became ten years old. He could not remember a time his mother had truly smiled or laughed, and even her weeping, which had kept her to her quarters for three days, was stifled and quiet for all its intensity.

Hearing his son's anxious question and seeing his face, Adhirbal Ghazanoi Ilorat felt as though he had been hit hard in the gut: it seemed impossible that his children would ever know the flashing-eyed and brilliant Fazia Muhassinet who had won his heart. But there were so many things he feared they would never know. "Walk with me, Kaddar."

He waited to begin speaking until they were some ways away from the villa. Bluntness and frankness, he thought, would be the best guards against uncomfortable questions. "In the Grand Council this week, it was reported that Hanno Fazioi Baeculsikh opened his veins." He stopped, unsure if Kaddar would understand. "Do you know what this means, when I say that?"

Kaddar would have liked to tell his father that he knew much more than he thought he did. He listened to the slaves talk, after all. But he did not quite dare -- Kaddar thought secretly, though he knew he could never share this thought, more awe-inspiring than the divine Emperor Ozorne Muhassin Tasikhe himself -- so he only said, "Yes, sir. It means he killed himself. And he was Mother's uncle." Kaddar felt solemn and a little bit empty. Hanno Fazioi was not very much older than Mother, and he was tall and handsome and always making jokes. The few times that he could remember Mother smiling her worried smile had been in his visits. He tried to imagine Mother's uncle, noble and strong and handsome, sitting and watching the blood run out of his veins. He could imagine Fazioi Baeculsikh, but he could not imagine him killing himself.

"But why, sir?"

"He was accused of ambition and treachery to the Emperor," Adhirbal said, hearing that he could not completely clear his voice of emotion. "Accused by -- by sycophants hoping to gain favor by his fall; men of no birth or family and less honor."

Kaddar stiffened by instinct at his father's anger, although he knew it was not directed at him, as he considered this new information. He knew, of course, that noblemen accused or convicted of serious crimes often took their own lives to avoid the indignity of an execution. Had Fazioi Baeculsikh been so careful of his honor that he would rather die than face even a trial? Surely no one could be that stupid, and particularly not good-natured Uncle Hanno. "Why should he be afraid? If the accusations were false, surely the Emperor would not pay them mind."

Adhirbal was careful with his words. "The divine Emperor cannot sift every case as fully as he would wish. And for the safety of the empire, any accusation, even from the most self-seeking and envious man, must be considered seriously." He was used on the one hand to command armies, and on the other to speak veiledly with men who knew as acutely as he did what their conversations and the subjects of them could import. It was distasteful to think of the need to teach one's son to sneak and dissemble and be familiar with flattery and concealed meaning, and he did not know how to begin to explain these things to a child who had been taught to be honest and upright. He thought of his wife's uncle, so much older than Kaddar, but still so young: so young, so principled, and so foolish. He took a breath, and then another. "There were other considerations against him, as well. Fazioi was indiscreet. He raised difficult questions in the Grand Council, and said things that a more prudent man would have left unsaid. He almost invited these accusations, and he knew that to answer them could only hurt others even more innocent -- and could do him no good."

"But if he wasn't truly disloyal," Kaddar persisted. Several things were beginning to turn themselves over in his mind. He was afraid to ask whether Mother was one of those 'even more innocent.' And he did not understand why Father said that last phrase so bitterly. "Or was he? Disloyal, sir, I mean. Hasn't the Emperor given it all the nobles of the Grand Council to speak freely?"

"Yes, Kaddar, he has. And no, Hanno Fazioi was not 'truly disloyal'." There was an unresolved contradiction there, and Kaddar knew that his father never lied.

"Then why--"

"Kaddar." The boy bit his lip and was silent mid-question. "Your thoughts will always be your own, but any word you say or action you make reveals your soul to the world. Do you understand?

"Yes, sir."

"Now ask me what you would."

Kaddar thought for a moment. He looked up at his father, unsure what was permitted to him. "Why didn't you help him? Why didn't Mother go to the Emperor and plead for him?" He half-knew the answer: his father had as good as told him that the Emperor was unjust. And had told him outright that he must never say so. Suddenly, he could imagine Uncle Hanno pale and bloodstained. "How could you let him die!"

"There was nothing we could have done, even had Fazioi decided to answer the charges. I'm sorry, Kaddar." Adhirbal put a hand on his son's shoulder.

"But you knew he was in danger and you didn't save him." It occurred to Kaddar that he would never cross swords with his mother's uncle again, or watch him laughing as he raised his wine-cup at dinner. He didn't know how to think about the enormity of it all.

"You cannot save a man from himself," Adhirbal said harshly. "He had the fate that he desired."

It didn't make sense, thought Kaddar, that Father should be angry at Uncle Hanno when he clearly admired what he had done. "Was he brave, to say what he said?"

Adhirbal looked at the roses lining the path. "Yes," he said. "He was very brave."

A sudden and horrible thought struck Kaddar. "And was he right?"

Adhirbal wondered if he took his life into his hands when he said to his son, "Yes, I believe he was right, in principle."

"Then," Kaddar said slowly, "then why—" he could not say it. He could not ask Father this. It could not be possible that Father – who was so upright and so stern and so brave – could be a coward. He began to cry.

"The ways of the Gods are inscrutable," his father said, leading him over to a bench. "And the world is full of death and injustices. But Kaddar, you cannot cry. Women may cry, but men must remember. Remember that Fazioi Baeculsikh was a good man and a brave man." And a foolhardy man, he added silently for the benefit of his own memory.

Kaddar snuffled, but stopped crying. Father didn't understand. "But why aren't _you_ li--"

Again, Father cut him off. "Do you remember what I told you about open speech, Kaddar?"

"Yes, sir." Privately, Kaddar thought that Father had already revealed at least as much of _his_ soul to the world as the cut-off question would have of his own. But then, Father's soul was bound to be much purer than his own.

"Fazioi Baeculsikh spoke out against many things he perceived to be abuses and instances of corruption in the empire," Adhirbal said, choosing his words with care. "But his words did nothing but destroy him. One man's words and dramatic death reform nothing and help no one.

"As long as men are self-serving and weak, Kaddar, and you will find that many men are so, there will be many things that are wrong in this world. But it is arrogant and even selfish to glorify oneself by fighting a battle one cannot possibly win and that does no good for the Empire. Do you understand?" He looked at his son, hoping that this oblique explanation would carry the necessary meaning. He was sure Kaddar was old enough and intelligent enough to grasp everything that he intended, but his son looked troubled.

"But what do you do, sir? About things that are unjust."

"There are no circumstances so dire that a man cannot live a reasonably moral life. I serve the Empire to the utmost of my ability and loyalty, and I conduct my personal dealings with as much justice as I am able. I can hope that my example and authority with the men under me will inspire in them the will to do similarly. There is no other way to live –"

There was something else that Father would have added, Kaddar realized, but there were things that even Father could not say. This was a new thought, and it bore some thinking. "But what if th—if someone makes you do something that is wrong?" he asked. "What if they ask you to kill somebody? Isn't it better to resist then, even if it would only destroy you? What about the gods?" It was a game, almost. How do you talk about the Emperor without actually talking about him? But it was a very deadly game, Kaddar realized. He thought of Hanno Fazioi again, and suddenly wished he had not learned the rules or the existence of this particular game.

This was the question. This was what Adhirbal Gazanoi wrestled with every day and what kept him from sleep every night. He was thankful that his son did not know – yet – how many deaths there were, and how many times his father had sat on the Grand Council and approved the execution or enforced suicide of a one-time colleague or friend. It was all very well to talk of individual integrity, but individual integrity could not erase a share of collective guilt. "You will understand more when you are older," he said, because he did not have a better answer. "And you see now, perhaps, that it is not easier to live than to die for your ideals."

Kaddar nodded, but he was not fooled. Father did not simply do his duty to the Empire and live quietly. He was powerful and honored. "Now come," Adhirbal said. "I am summoned to the palace, and you must take care of your mother." As they walked back to the villa, Kaddar continued to think. Father did things though he knew they were wicked. _Father._ Father _had_ to do things that were wicked. There was no certainty in the world at all if -- circumstances -- could make Father act against his conscience. And if even Father's soul was impure… Kaddar did not know quite what to think about this, or even how to phrase it to himself, but he knew that he would have to keep his soul from both of his parents as much as Father kept his from the Emperor.

* * *

(1) "Men can be great even under wicked princes." Obviously, this fic is indebted to Tacitus for much more than the tag. So much so that it might even be properly termed a crossover.

* * *

2-8-06 Spelling of names fixed thanks to Alone in the Desert, and other minor revisions. I don't know if I shall ever be happy with this fic, or if it will ever stop feeling awkward.  



End file.
